


One for the Road

by coveredbyroses



Series: 2018 SPNKinkBingo [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Oral Sex, Road Head, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tumblr: spnkinkbingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:30:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: You and Dean go for a drive. You try something new.





	One for the Road

You lean back against the warm leather of passenger seat, bringing your arms back to hug around the headrest.The vibration of the Impala’s engine rumbles underneath you as it roars down the open highway.

You prop your right leg up on the dashboard, bringing your left to cross over it at the ankles. You close your eyes just in time for a large palm to crack against your denim-covered thigh -

“Feet off the dash,” Dean grumbles from behind the steering wheel.

“Oh, come on-”

Another slap. “Feet. Off.”

“Ugh. Fine.” You let your boots thump against the floorboard as you drop them.

“So, uh…where are we going?” Dean asks, flicking his eyes from the road to you.

“Nowhere,” you laugh. “I told you - I just wanted to go for a drive. Y’know, just the two of us…” you sing-song. Dean nods, turning back to the windshield as his lips curl up in a knowing smile.

You had just returned from working a case with the brothers. It had taken forever to find the cursed object, meaning you’d spent a week sharing a cramped motel room with the guys. You needed to get out. Or maybe you just needed an excuse to get Dean alone.

Probably the latter.

You and Dean had been dating for a little over three months now, and in that time you can count on your fingers how many times it had just been the two of you. Sure, there were some quickies in motel showers, and that time you sucked his dick in that _disgusting_ gas station bathroom…you give a little shudder at the memory.

But you never had the chance to just _be_ with him. And this was the perfect excuse. Sam’s back at the bunker, in the library, nose buried in a musty old lore book.

It’s a beautiful evening, the horizon ahead turning a gorgeous blend of red and gold with the setting sun. The road is desolate; you can’t remember the last time you saw passing car.

You let your head roll towards Dean and smile. He always looks so relaxed at the wheel with miles of worn asphalt ahead of him. He blinks occasionally and you marvel at how his long lashes kiss his cheeks. He’s just so handsome. _How did you get so lucky?_

He frowns at you; insecurity furrowing his brows. “What?”

Your smile widens, “Nothing!” you chuckle. “I’m just…happy,” you shrug.

He relaxes then, returning the smile. “C’mere.” He extends an arm along the bench seat, inviting you to snuggle into his side. You scoot across the leather, drawing your legs up to curl under you. You nuzzle your cheek into the warm flannel covering his shoulder, hooking an arm around his middle.

“This is perfect,” you sigh, squeezing him a little.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Think we both needed this. Good idea, kid.”

You aren’t expecting the hot, tingly pressure that settles into your belly, but here it is. He’s just so _warm_ under your skin and he smells so _good_.

You breathe out a slow exhale to try to calm yourself, but it only seems to stoke the fire. You squirm; gathering up a fistful of flannel as you attemp to fight the smoldering heat inside you.

Dean tenses against you. “You ‘kay?”

“Yeah…” Oh, your voice is low. Too low. And Dean recognizes it.

“Ya need me ta pull over, sweetheart?” His pitch has dropped too and you can hear the smirk in the question.

 _God, yes!_ You almost scream, but you don’t. Because now your mouth is watering with hunger for what’s hidden just a few inches below you. Just the thought of stuffing all that thickness in your mouth nearly has you keening.

“Nuh-uh,” you breathe. “How ‘bout you keep those pretty eyes on the road ’n I’ll take good care o’ _you_.”

He stiffens. “Are you - wait…are you…oh god.” You smile as he starts to unravel and you can hear the steering wheel creak as he tightens his fingers around it.

“Come on, baby…” you purr, running your hand up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. “Haven’t you ever had road head before?”

“Y-yeah,” he manages, “but not…not while - I mean I usually pull over-”

“Not this time.” You encourage, moving to mouth along the length of his neck, his heated skin tingling against your lips. “Wanna suck your cock _while_ you’re driving.”

“Oh, f- _fuck_ …”

You smirk as you bite your lip, chewing at the flesh before releasing it again, “Bonus points if you speed.”

“ _Jesus Christ_ \- you’ve lost your damned mind, kid.”

You push your lower lip out in a pout, “Is that a no, then?” you whine.

“What? N-no, just - _god…_ are ya sure?”

“Wan’tcha so bad it fucking _hurts_.”

“Shit.”

You feel him relax, just slightly, and then your hand is boldly sliding down over his chest and stomach to work his belt buckle open with practiced skill. You use both hands to wrench his pants open, reaching in to pull his swelling length from its confines.

He makes a sound at the back of his throat as you start to stroke him, briefly releasing him to lick into your palm. You give him three more pumps before scooting back until you’re on your knees, bracing a hand against the leather seat.

He gives a strangled cry as you grip him at the base, sliding your mouth over the flared head, and down the fleshy column, sinking until your lips meet your fingers.

The head of his cock bumps into the back of your throat and his hips jerk as you cough around him before slipping back off. You feel a hand at the back of your head before descending on him again - you reach back, batting it away.

“Both hands on the wheel, mister.”

There’s a slapping of flesh against rubber as he obeys, and you can’t help but smile at the power you have over him.

You give his saliva-slick cock a few more pumps before taking him back in your mouth and he releases a needy, quivering breath that makes you want to squeeze your thighs together. And then you’re flattening your tongue against the side of his dick, massaging him as you find your rhythm.

You move your hand from the root of his length down to cup his balls, gently squeezing as you take him a little deeper. The noises spilling from his mouth are absolutely _delicious_ , spurring you to hollow your cheeks and suck _hard_. The action brings his ass off the seat and this time when he hits the back of your throat, you swallow around him -

“Oh, _fuck!”_ he shouts. You rock on the seat, nearly tumbling into the floorboard when the car suddenly _surges_ forward. He gets a hand on your side, steadying you. “Shit, s-sorry,” he chokes. You’re _beaming_ inside.

You quicken your pace while your hand continues its rhythmic compressions on his balls. Dean’s voice is wrecked, almost unrecognizable, as he whimpers your name.

His hips are moving on their own now, thrusting into the wet heat of your mouth. But you don’t stop him, let him take a little control. You repeatedly swallow every time he hits the back wall of your throat, fighting down your gag reflex.

Your stomach tightens deliciously at the thought of his face; all wrinkled brows and gaping mouth, how his lips are probably forming that perfect ‘o’… And shit, you can feel him swelling, your mouth barely able to contain the thickness of him.

“ _Shit,_ kid…I can’t…oh god - m’gonna…gonna-”

You respond by suctioning your lips even tighter -

And then with a deep growl, he’s spurting salty-hot into your mouth, and you eagerly swallow down each sticky rope, like a woman starved.

You continue to suck as you pull off of him, letting his softening cock drop long over his opened jeans.

You’re as breathless as he is when you stiffly maneuver yourself into a sitting position, sliding back to your spot in the car. You look at him as you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand; his lips are parted with panting breaths, eyes blinking rapidly as he struggles to operate the old beast of a car.

He throws you a quick glance before he’s _jerking_ the steering wheel to the right - you slap your hands against the dash as the Impala skids through the roadside gravel to a sudden stop.

“What the-” you start, but then he’s throwing the car in park - he leans toward you, reaches down to get a hand around your left calf, and _yanks_ until you’re on your back, head bouncing off the leather seat.

“What the shit?!” you shriek. And then - _fuck_. Then he’s crawling up your body, shining teeth bared in an almost _frightening_ snarl -

“It’s _my_ turn.”

 


End file.
